26 Reality Eludes All Living Monsters
by SpeedBurn
Summary: Las Vegas, New York, Miami, and Washington DC experience a series of minor related crimes, but are they a sign of something even bigger, even more sinister than a handful of kids in trouble? (CSI, CSI Miami, CSI NY, Castle, NCIS, and Criminal Minds: NOT 'ship - Sam)
1. Dance with Darkness

Chapter Title: Dance with Darkness

Author: Sam

Story: Reality Eludes All Living Monsters: 01 of 14

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 26

Chapter Characters: Nick, Cath, (OC) Daneesha

Rating: M: Language, Abuse of Minors, Violence, and Sexual Situations

Summary: Las Vegas, New York, Miami, and Washington DC experience a series of minor-related crimes, but are they a sign of something even bigger, even more sinister than a handful of kids in trouble?

Spoiler: Yeah, seasons 1 – 6 of _CSI: Crime Scene Investigation_, seasons 1 – 2 of _CSI: NY_, and seasons 1 – 4 of _CSI: Miami_, seasons 1 – 12 of _NYPD Blue_, seasons 1 – 3 of _NCIS_, season 1 of _Criminal Minds_, and random facts from _Castle_.

Category: Crime-related; Drama; Science; AU

Setting: AU: _SpeedBurn_: Thursday, December 8, 2005 to Monday, December 12, 2005: Las Vegas, New York City, Washington, DC, and Miami.

Disclaimer: _Castle_ was created by Andrew W. Marlowe and produced by Beacon Pictures, Experimental Pictures, and ABC Studios. _CSI: Crime Scene Investigation_ was created by Ann Donahue and Anthony E. Zuiker and produced by Alliance Atlantis Communications, CBS Paramount Network Television (2006-2009), CBS Productions (2006-2009), and Jerry Bruckheimer Television. _CSI: Miami_ was created by Ann Donahue, Carol Mendelsohn, and Anthony E. Zuiker and produced by Alliance Atlantis Communications (2002-2007), The American Travelers, CBS Paramount Network Television (2006-2009), CBS Productions (2002-2006), CBS Television Studios (2009-2012), Jerry Bruckheimer Television, and Touchstone Television (pilot only). _CSI: NY_ was created by Ann Donahue, Carol Mendelsohn, and Anthony E. Zuiker and produced by Alliance Atlantis Communications (2004-2007), Alliance Atlantis Motion Picture Production (2004-2007), Alliance Atlantis Productions (2004-2007), CBS Paramount Network Television (2006-2009), CBS Productions (2004-2006), CBS Television Studios (2009-present), Clayton Entertainment, and Jerry Bruckheimer Television. _Criminal Minds_ was created by Jeff Davis and produced by Touchstone Television (2005-2007), Paramount Network Television (2005-2006), The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios (2007-present), CBS Paramount Network Television (2006-2009), and CBS Television Studios (2009-present). _NCIS_ was created by Donald P. Bellisario and Don McGill and produced by Belisarius Productions and thinkfilm (the Washington DC scenes), and in association with Paramount Network Television (2003-2006), CBS Paramount Network Television (2006-2009), and CBS Television Studios (2009-present). _NYPD Blue_ was created by Steven Bochco and David Milch and produced by 20th Century Fox Television, Fox Television Network, and Steven Bochco Productions. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership of these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story, and most likely not a story any of them would have written, had they had the time or no. I am making no money from this and it is just for my entertainment and that of free entertainment to a select group. Thank you.

Distribution: Please ask first?

Note: In the _SpeedBurn_ timeline series significant changes occur in various episodes, marking differences in each series. The initial drastically changed episodes are in chronological order: "Bait" (_Without a Trace_), "Reveille" (_NCIS_), "Lost Son" (_CSI: Miami_), "Bodies in Motion" (_Crime Scene Investigation_), "Summer in the City" (_CSI: NY_), and "In Name and Blood (In Birth and Death)" (_Criminal Minds_). Many episodes after those changed are also different. This story is number 26 in the grand scheme. Thank you.

Second Note: Mac's injuries occurred in "Speed Trap". The kidnapping Stella remembers is in "Moral Judgments". Carmen appears in "The Swimsuit Murder". Cath became pregnant as a result of "Flowers Family".

Feedback: Yes, please, especially constructive.

xxx

Setting: Thursday, December 8, 2005: Las Vegas:

Taking a sip of his beer, Nick smiled as the pretty blonde bent closer in her dance. As she swayed to the sensual rhythm, Nick nodded slowly, appreciatively. Off duty, as long as he didn't pay for anything illegal, there were no rules against the young criminal investigator enjoying one of the many dance clubs or show rooms that lined the Las Vegas strip. Thus, that night, after a hard day of working on a burglary case he'd finally gotten cracked, Nick Stokes sat at a stage-side table enjoying a cold beer, some nachos, and a sensual dance by a scantily clad, well-built woman. In his eyes it was the perfect way to celebrate the beginning of the end of a grueling case.

As the tune ended, Nick sat back, waiting in pleased anticipation for the next dancer to come onto stage. So far, there had been a wide _flavor_ variety, starting with a big-hipped redhead, a petite woman of Asian descent, and the voluptuous blonde who'd just finished. That was the great thing about this club: the floor show catered to a large variety of visual tastes ever since the new owner had taken over a few months previously. A man could sit back and get his fill of all the exotic beauty nature had to offer.

The relaxed, almost smug attitude didn't last past the opening beats of the next song.

Nick suddenly thrust forward, trying to get a good look at the dark-skinned beauty as she wove in and out amid the flashing disco-like lighting and smoky haze that accompanied her number. Something didn't feel right; every instinct in Nick's worldly-knowledgeable body screamed that the dancer was not what she was supposed to be. It took only a few more bars of sensual music to trigger the awareness in Nick's now alert brain.

_That woman's on drugs!_

Following close on the heels of the first thought came a second, more troubling one: _Her body's underdeveloped!_ Even with the ripening breasts and well-proportioned swaying hips, Nick saw that this dancer was not an adult, though she was close to it. He wondered if she was even the requisite eighteen years and decided that no way in Hell could she be old enough to legally dance on that floor in that club.

Standing, almost casually, trying to appear as if the current dancer bored him, Nick tossed a few bills on the table to cover his unfinished meal and headed slowly, nonchalantly towards the door. Once in the front lobby, keeping an ear out for the continuing dance number, he picked up his pace and hurriedly pulled out his cell phone then speed-dialed the well known number.

"Catherine Willows," said the almost immediate reply and Nick sent a silent prayer of thanks Heaven-ward to whomever protected minors. "Hey, Cath, it's an emergency. I need your professional opinion five minutes ago at the "Cat's Meow" club on the main strip." He glanced furtively around, trying not to be too obvious in case someone overheard his conversation and decided to hide the girl on stage. Fortunately, Catherine Willows proved as cooperative as quick that night, and she replied, "on my way, Nicky. Stay put."

Far from taking her order to mean he had to stand around in the club's lobby, Nick headed back to his fortunately still untouched table. Slipping back into his seat, as if nothing untoward had occurred, the criminal investigator went back to watching the too-young dancer, all enjoyment in the feminine displays thus far presented having vanished with his dawning horror over the almost certain minor age of the girl before him. Nick hated child abuse, and even if the pretty girl was a month shy of eighteen she was still a minor; letting her dance for these not-always-respectful men was nothing short of illegal in Nick's opinion. A kid like that deserved a chance to make something more of herself than a dancer down-spiraling quickly towards prostitute. Added to the fact that she must be on drugs, Nick felt his nachos and beer turning in his uneasy stomach. Cath couldn't come fast enough for his unsettled mind.

Three songs passed before the red-haired investigator showed up, slipping into the seat next to Nick as calmly as if pregnant women were a normal occurrence in the club's audience. She signaled a nearly topless waitress and smiled as she ordered a cola, skipping any food. Neither investigator spoke as they waited the six or seven minutes for Catherine to get her drink, but as soon as the waitress became busy with other customers Catherine near-whispered, "What's up, Nicky?"

Equally quiet, Nick responded, "I need your expert opinion on one of the dancers, Cath. And I'm deadly serious." His tone said as much, apparently effectively holding Catherine's ready quip at bay.

Rather the woman scanned the room as if admiring the ambiance then nodded agreeably. "Is she even scheduled to come back on tonight, Nick? Some dancers don't work more than one or two sets."

Nick's brown eyes turned to his companion and he looked troubled. "I'm not sure . . . how do I find out without alarming them, Cath? She's a tiny black girl, but . . ."

Immediately Catherine seemed to get the gist, for she grabbed Nick's warm beer and gave him a delicious smile. Standing, she sashayed to the bar, attracting enough attention from the males present despite her rather obvious condition that no one would possibly think she was trying to be covert . . . who drew that kind of attention when she didn't want people to notice? At the bar, she leaned forward and slid the mug towards the man with a smile of invitation.

It worked as she'd planned for the man smiled eagerly in return, grabbing the mug and replacing it with a full, cold one. "Heya, sexy lady. Whatcha doing in this kinda place?"

She laughed a low sensuous sound that drew eager looks from nearby patrons. Ignoring everyone except the bartender, Catherine leaned even closer and purred, "I love that little dark number you've got here, but I missed her tonight. Any chance she's coming on again?"

The bartender seemed torn between the exciting image of two women in each other's arms and the disappointing idea that he spoke to a gorgeous lesbian, albeit a pregnant one. He merely mentally sighed for the loss to mankind and shrugged. "Yeah, she'll be on in two songs." Letting his eyes trail over the redhead, his eyes displayed that he tried to think of a way to ask her for the chance to turn her away from female lovers. Before he could form the idea that Cath might be bi-sexual, the music changed.

Catherine didn't give him the chance to try again, standing and laughing low once more. "Thanks, Babe." She gave him another knock-out smile, picked up the mug, and wound her way back to Nick's side, slipping into the chair with an attitude of total relaxation. "Next song, Nicky." Her eyes didn't leave the stage, playing her image to the hilt in case the bartender still watched her; she didn't doubt he did.

As the next song started, the flashing lights and smoke started once more. Pretty certain the effects were being used to distract the audience from the youth of the dancer, or at least from her dazed eyes and lost look, Nick frowned. Beside him Catherine signaled the girl over and held up a bill, still playing her part for the watching bartender and, no doubt, alert but hidden manager.

As the girl squatted down to receive the offering, Nick became more than certain this was no grown woman; she couldn't be more than sixteen. Aside from the youthful build of the dancer, the glazed, dilated eyes were a very evident indication of her drug usage. When the girl moved to back up and stumbled nearly onto her butt, a couple of other people recognized a problem. Someone off-stage turned the music off and the lights flickered to signal the girl to retreat just as another woman swept out of the far left entrance, ready to replace the young druggie.

Nick didn't give the girl the chance to follow her cues; he grasped her wrist firmly and said, "Police, you're coming with me." Both investigators knew there'd be hell to pay for his actions and that any chance of Nick being allowed to relax in that club unmolested in the future had just gone up in smoke. The manager would no doubt bar him from the club. Nick was willing to pay that price to help this poor misguided kid get a second chance to make some good decisions instead of what she'd apparently chosen so far.

Surprisingly the manager didn't make an appearance as the pair led their new charge from the still fully active club. Perhaps he'd decided that absence was the better part of valor.

xxx

Continued in Chapter Two: Mass Confusion

xxx

This is being attached to all first chapters of my _CSI: Miami_ stories as it is imperative for the timeline!

On someone's recommendation I just watched Season 8, Episode 1 of _CSI: Miami_. I was horrified to see the discrepancies as compared to the original season and character biographies released in 2002. These discrepancies mainly revolve around Speed and when everyone came to or left the CSI lab. Thus, here is the original timeline as released in 2002 between Season 1, the biographies by the network, and Rory Cochrane's personal website, incorporating what I can of Season 8:

1991: Speed's best friend from high school (unnamed) receives a severe spinal injury during the senior class trip. Speed goes to medical college as a result (to try to heal him).

1993: Speed's best friend dies in surgery while Speed is in the second year of medical college with a double major (meaning four years of classes in two years). Speed drops out and disappears right after the funeral. He is not seen or found for a year.

1994: Speed turns up in Miami, living with the uncle of his deceased best friend. The uncle is a CSI from Miami's crime lab, under the supervision of Megan (Donner – no mention if she is actually married at this time). While bored, Speed visits the crime lab with his host and falls in love with the work. He applies for a job. Megan tells him to finish college and she'll hire him as a tech. He goes back to college.

1995: Speed graduates with a double major (meaning he finished four years of college in one year). He applies and is hired. In six months (supposed to be the quickest of any tech in Miami), he is made an investigator. This is without becoming a police officer at all. Horatio leaves the bomb squad and transfers to the Crime Lab. He is working under Megan. Rick Stetler also joins the crime lab (from homicide?). Both are trained by Speed as CSI's.

*September 1996: (**My additions**) Megan takes a temporary academy teaching position, leaving the Lab in the hands of her team: Speed, Horatio, Stetler, and various non-science related officers like John Sullivan. Speed goes to the St. Petersburg Police Academy (6 months, then a 6 month stint in St. Petersburg on the beat for experience). Shortly after these two leave, Jessie Cordoza arrives for a one year assignment before going to California.

September 1997: Flashbacks of "Out of Time" (_CSI: Miami_, Season 8, Episode 1) occur.

*September 1997: (**My additions**) Calleigh transfers from Louisiana to cover for Cordoza while they find a replacement. Within a few months, she is replaced so goes back to Louisiana. Speed returns from St. Petersburg.

*October 1997: (**My additions**): Megan returns from teaching and takes over the lab supervision once more.

2002: David Caruso states he is pleased that the CSI characters 'working for him' are all police officers (thus my addition of when Speed may have gone to the academy).

March 2002: Megan's husband Shawn Donner is killed in the line of duty. Megan is offered two weeks bereavement leave. She takes six months instead. The supervisor job opens, but Speed refuses to apply for it, content at his own rank. Horatio and Rick compete for the job and Horatio gets it. Rick transfers from the lab to IAB in order to get a promotion, but remains angry and resentful of Horatio. Horatio immediately hires Eric Delko and Calleigh Duquesne, handpicked CSI's. (Delko nearly made it to the Olympics as a swimmer and Calleigh was known as Bullet Girl in Louisiana at the time.)

May 9, 2002: "Cross Jurisdictions" (_CSI: Miami_ and _CSI_ crossover episode).

September 23, 2002: "Golden Parachute" (_CSI: Miami_ pilot episode). Megan returns to the team as assistant supervisor. Eric expresses his anger for her attitude and Speed explains the loss of Megan's husband. (This denotes Eric did not know Megan or her history.) Also note that Megan relies heavily on Speed out of habit and unfamiliarity with Delko and Calleigh. She gives Speed double and triple amounts of work, which Horatio at times counters.

September 19, 2004: "Lost Son" (CSI: Miami episode). Speed is given full honors during the funeral, including an American flag and gun salute (denoting he is a cop).

Megan is only present for the first ten episodes. She leaves the series by the 11th episode. The character is said to have retired due to Post Traumatic Stress related to her husband's death. The actress is said to have left due to professional differences with David Caruso. My opinion differs about this for the following reason:

Speed and Megan are said to be very close friends, however the only voluntary contact Speed makes with her is during "Golden Parachute" when he sympathizes with her loss of Shawn. After that, he will not come physically close to her: stepping away if she approaches, hugging himself in an unconscious self-protective gesture, and moving so that at least one person or piece of equipment is between them whenever he is able. I think the professional differences were between _Rory Cochrane_ and Kim Delaney.

Season 8, Episode 1 discrepancies: 1997: Calleigh transfers to Miami Crime Lab, which is "a closet". Horatio encourages Eric to become a cop then join the lab. Jesse Cordoza recommends "Speedle, a great guy up in St. Pete's (St. Petersburg, Florida, implying Speed is a cop.)". Horatio is also made head of the new crime lab, and Megan is mentioned as being in the field, but implied to be working for Horatio.

As you can see, these are major changes. My stories, especially in the _SpeedBurn_ timeline are based on the original information released and not on the discrepancies in Season 8, though I have made adjustments which incorporate almost all Season 8 changes. Merrianna follows my lead on this, as well.

Thank you,

Sam

7


	2. Mass Confusion

Chapter Title: Mass Confusion

Author: Sam

Story: Reality Eludes All Living Monsters: 02 of 14

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 26

Characters: Mac, Danny, Sheldon, Stella, Lindsay, Don Flack, Aiden, (OC) Aaron

Note: Mac's injuries occurred during "_Speed Trap_", another story in the _SpeedBurn_ time line.

Setting: Morning: Friday, December 9 2005: New York City:

xxx

With a small frown, Detective Mac Taylor studied the file on the desk before him, one of a stack he kept on the edge of his desk, all of them cold cases he weekly tried to make headway on. Out of all of the case files he'd placed there, four had been relegated to the _Solved_ cabinet: four down, ten to go. Mac hoped the numbers wouldn't increase again, though he knew the futility of that wish.

He studied the file of an alleged kidnapping victim. Two years ago an eleven-year-old girl had gone missing while running an errand to a local store. No hard suspects had ever been found, neither had a body. The oddest twist to the case was that her dog had also disappeared . . . a very large sheepdog. Most kidnappers wouldn't be prepared to handle a large dog and so the majority of investigators felt that Traci Parks had run away from home rather than been abducted, while a minority thought her family had done away with her. Mac didn't agree with either opinion; thus, he found himself once again reviewing the missing girl's file.

Studying the snapshot her parents had provided, a picture taken a few weeks before the disappearance, Mac didn't see anything previously unnoticed about the petite brunette smiling into the camera. Traci had her waist-length dark brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, her athletic body pressed into the side of her dog, her arms thrown around the neck of the massive gray and white animal. She wore blue jeans, a blue button-down shirt, and sneakers. The Parks' assured him that the girl had been wearing the same outfit when she'd disappeared, a convenient fact that had kept the worried parents near the top of the suspect list long after other facts and minute evidence would have dropped them nearer the bottom.

Mac put the file flat on his desk with a sigh and slowly stood, stretching his back and rolling his neck to ease the kinks. He'd been working for some time and knew he needed a break . . . but the victim never got that luxury; he could work longer. Still standing, the former Marine leaned over the desk once more, intent on reviewing the missing girl's file. What was the key? She was just an eleven-year-old on a snack run in a familiar area. The investigator's eyes flew down the file as he started reviewing a list of facts pertinent to the Traci Parks case: brunette, female, eleven, dressed conservatively, night, well-known neighborhood, alone except sheepdog . . .

Was the dog the actual key? Had someone kidnapped the girl for her animal? The dog had never reappeared. Mac refused to overlook any factor, no matter how odd it might be. He riffled through the file for as much information on the dog as he could get. It had been a one and a half year old pure bred, un-neutered male, but beyond that and his name, Lord Reginald of Southland informally called Rex, nothing stood out. Mac made a note to check dog shows, vets, shelters, and anyone else who might have a record of the possible reappearance of the dog within the last two years. The dog might lead them to the girl. Mac could hardly follow every sheepdog in the area, but a lead was a lead.

The sound of his cell phone ringing jarringly interrupted his concentration.

"Mac Taylor," he said, voice crisp, relaying the silent information that this call had better be important to have interrupted his work.

Danny sounded as tired as his supervisor felt. "Hey, Mac, we've got a crime scene at my crime scene."

With a frown, Mac straightened and walked from his desk. "Danny . . ." his voice held an unconscious warning; Mac's mood didn't allow for extra mysteries or word games.

"I'm serious, Mac." Sincerity rang in the younger man's tones. "I'm working the jewelry store break-in. When I finally got the owner to open the office, there was nothing out of the ordinary back there. I checked the fire escape door, too, and that's when I found the body. And, Mac, I seriously doubt he's the perpetrator or a casual victim . . . he just doesn't _fit_."

Okay, that _was_ serious. Mac reached over and snagged his jacket, pulling one sleeve on quickly as he spoke. "I'm on my way." He hung up the phone, dropping it into the jacket pocket, then slid his other arm into the jacket. Heading out the door, the crime lab supervisor flagged down Sheldon. "We've got a body by the jewelry store. You're with me."

The African-American man nodded, darting into the records room to put down the case files he'd been going to review. Practically on his supervisor's heels, the former medical examiner grabbed his kit from where it sat and slipped into the elevator behind the similarly equipped Mac.

Quickly, Sheldon scanned his boss's right hand, noting the working splint the man wore over his shattered hand . . . a wound he'd gotten in late September during a shoot-out with an FBI Agent gone bad. It wouldn't be too long before Mac could have the wires and rods removed from his dominant hand; it had already been practically three months. Until that time regulations required that the supervisor of New York City's crime lab have a second investigator with him at all times in the field. Sheldon knew that had to rankle.

For his part, Mac made no indication of his feelings concerning his injury or his restrictions. He merely allowed Sheldon to press the button for the ground floor, quietly filling the other man in on the very little he knew. "Danny found a body and thinks it's not part of his break in. We'll see."

xxx

While Lindsay snapped pictures inside the trashed storeroom of the empty former shoe store, Stella tried to calm the hysterical owner down.

Apparently he'd just found someone to lease the suite; however, while checking the conditions of the former shop, he'd discovered the storage, show, and employee rooms to be strewn with graffiti, broken glass, smashed furniture and fixtures, and blood. Normally the conditions of a closed shop, even one closed only for three weeks, would most often reflect vandalism and some theft. It was the blood which had prompted him to call the police so quickly.

Finally Stella broke into the hysterical tirade and defensive exclamations. "Mr. Fonetti, what I need right now is a list of former employees of the shoe store and the persons who leased this property."

"I did nothing wrong! The shoe store had nothing to do with me!" He ignored the requests Stella made and went off on a tangent concerning his innocence.

"Mr. Fonetti!" That got the man's attention, and as he silently blinked at the increasingly frustrated investigator, Stella calmly asked once again, "I need a list of people who leased the store from you and a list of former employees of the store."

The man wrung his hands and nodded, silently, much to Stella's relief. He trotted out of the store presumably to get the documents she had requested. Turning towards Lindsay, Stella called out, "I'll check out back."

Looking over Lindsay Monroe nodded and started walking over. "I've finished here. I'll come along." She was pretty, in a wholesome sort of way, and very eager to prove herself. Initially the investigator had been sent from Montana to cover while the day shift had gone on volunteer hurricane duty in September. When Mac came back injured, Bozeman, Montana had agreed to let their star CSI remain to help out. Just recently the eager young investigator had put in for a full transfer to the New York City crime lab and awaited Mac's final approval. Her quick eye had helped crack a high profile kidnapping case two months before and had left the supervisor very impressed, so it was only a matter of going through the official hoops to settle the transfer.

With a nod and a friendly smile Stella indicated her acceptance of Lindsay's suggestion, and both women headed for the back entry of the storeroom. The blonde-haired Lindsay snapped off several pictures of the jimmied lock before Stella triumphantly lifted both a fiber sample and a fingerprint from the doorjamb. Stella opened the door and stopped dead in her tracks, Lindsay having to backpedal so she wouldn't knock the older brunette down.

"What?" came Lindsay's confused query.

"Hello, Danny." Stella didn't explain to Lindsay, carefully stepping into the alley shared by the two crime scenes: hers, a vandalism turned possible assault, and, his, a break-in of a very active jewelry store. She saw instantly what he was looking at. "Is he part of your scene or part of mine?"

Danny lifted frustrated blue eyes to meet Stella's curious green ones. With a frown the younger investigator shook his head, looking back down at the body lying in the alley.

Before he could answer her, Mac and Sheldon showed up with Don Flack. With the arrival of Aiden, who had been assigned the break-in with Danny, the alley got pretty crowded. No one seemed to notice or care, however, as the entire group stared at the body laid out before them.

It was a young man, no more than twenty by the looks of him, with short-cropped black hair and tanned skin. He was of medium height and appeared to be lean, but his build was hard to pinpoint due to what he was wearing: a gold-colored armor breastplate over a blue chain mail shirt, silver mail leggings, and what might have been solid metal silver-colored shoes. The archaic-seeming ensemble was completed by a rather large gold-colored shield and a red cloak. The oddly cut yellow shirt he wore under the armor ended in a flare over his pelvis almost like a skirt. All in all, the boy could pass for a warrior of old . . . brought down in a jungle of the present.

Don Flack, homicide detective and often partner of the crime investigators, crossed his arms. The dark-haired, blue-eyed man frowned as he looked down at the youthful knight-wannabe. He sighed saying, "Hey, Mac, we got another loony."

"What do you expect? It's New York," Mac quipped back. He signaled Sheldon to check on the boy.

Almost sounding defensive Stella jumped into the conversation, never taking her eyes off the too young victim. "Hey, and you don't have loonies in Chicago?"

"Nope," the native Chicagoan shot back quickly, "the wind blows them all over to New York."

"So _that's_ why you're here."

"Shut up, Messer." Laughter laced Mac's voice, not censure.

Danny's sudden laugh drew the attention of everyone except Sheldon, busy trying to find out just what had happened to the victim.

Wanting to be one of the gang, Lindsay tentatively quipped, "Oh! Shot through the heart."

Without missing a beat, accepting Lindsay's comment as if it had come from someone of long standing rather than someone so new, Danny threw a grin at the other blonde and countered, "No, shot through the badge."

"Because you can't find his heart," Aiden's voice piped up from behind Danny.

Manner once more quiet and emotionless Mac responded, "that's because I don't have one; I'm a supervisor. Now shut up and let's process this kid." It effectively ended the banter, bringing the group back to the normal, real world they slogged through every day. No one seemed to mind. "What have we got, Sheldon?"

The doctor sat back on his heels and quickly fumbled for his phone, speed-dialing with one hand. "He's alive . . . barely," he said before putting his mouth to the phone and requesting emergency assistance.

"Alive!" Shock coursed through the group.

Danny felt like kicking himself since he'd been the one to initially call the kid in as a body, not a victim.

Nodding Sheldon gestured to the boy's hands. "His fingernails respond. I couldn't detect breathing or a pulse, but I did pinch his nail beds and the color changes indicate blood flow. He's still alive."

Sirens filled the air covering the sudden clicking of Lindsay's camera as she started shooting off pictures of the boy and the alley.

Mac frowned, quickly looking over the scene. "We've found the knight; now let's figure out where the dragon went."

xxx

Continued in Chapter Three: Unicorns and Crimes

5


	3. Unicorns and Crimes

Chapter Title: Unicorns and Crimes

Author: Sam

Story: Reality Eludes All Living Monsters: 03 of 14

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 26

Characters: Abby (_NCIS_), Ziva (_NCIS_), DiNozzo (_NCIS_), McGee (_NCIS_), Gibbs (_NCIS_), Penny (_Criminal Minds_), Aaron Hotchner (_Criminal Minds_), Unity (OC), Andrew (OC),

Setting: Noon: Friday, December 09, 2005: Washington, DC:

xxx

To the common passerby, the two women sitting at the small café table were either the most unlikely pair or an obvious set.

Facing the door, the chubby blonde woman dressed in a bright orange and neon yellow patterned dress rooted through a large pink and orange handbag. A pink streak of the same hue wove through her curls. Her one inch block heels were a shade darker orange than her dress and her bright pink nails were a shade lighter than her handbag and hair streak. Her make-up was light giving her a wholesome appearance. Brown eyes intense in her search, she barely looked up at her companion.

Sitting across from the blonde, back to the outside door, sat a thin woman with jet black pigtails and pale complexion. She wore a black t-shirt, black and white plaid knee skirt, and thigh-high six inch platform boots. With a studded dog choker nearly covering the spider web tattooed on her neck, the dark woman seemed an odd companion for the perky blonde. However, anyone noting her dancing green eyes, and the avid glow of intelligence and curiosity which shone there, might forgive the smiling Goth woman her foibles.

Overall Penny Garcia seemed more approachable than Abby Sciuto, yet both were equally friendly and fun-loving. Appearances could be very deceiving.

The waiter delivering their lunch order wasn't surprised in the least. The pair had been meeting monthly for as long as he'd been employed at the Washington, DC café. He liked both women and always tried to get assigned the pair when they arrived. Someday he hoped to get a date with one, or both, of them.

Stopping by Penny, the waiter smiled and placed a plate with a sandwich and assorted fruit next to the gregarious blonde computer expert. "Roast beef for Penny," he said, his voice low and flirtatious. "And a veggie-burger for our Abby." The waiter slid the dish of burger and fries in front of the widely smiling Goth forensics expert.

"Thanks, Kenji!" Abby reached for the super-sized cherry Caf-Pow she always drank with her lunch, popping the straw between black-gilded lips.

Penny plucked a strawberry from her plate and echoed "thanks, Kenji." She offered their server a smile as sunny as Abby's, letting her eyes trail appreciatively over his well-built frame, as she always did.

He returned their smiles and reluctantly turned to serve another customer.

"And I haven't heard from Greg in ages," Penny continued their interrupted conversation. "Think he'll make it to the next reunion?"

Abby took a long sip of her drink, nodding. Her green eyes darted everywhere, taking in the lunch crowd in avid curiosity. Sliding the straw from her mouth, she replied "he always does. It's Chad who never makes it. I think he's still mad at Greg for calling him the idiot black sheep of the clan. Not that Chad is stupid, of course, but his intelligence quota is lower than everyone else in the family." Abby grabbed the ketchup dispenser and flipped open the lid. "Still, Greg didn't have to rub his face in it. How do you think he's doing up in New York?" Abby looked up from her food. "Chad, that is, not Greg, since Greg isn't in New York. He's in Las Vegas."

On a sigh, Penny closed her handbag and picked up her sandwich then said, "I'd love to go to Las Vegas." Shaking her head, curls bouncing, she turned back to Abby and shrugged. "I'm not sure how Chad's doing. At least he broke away from the horde. That's one more thing off his post-grad to-do list. Think he's gotten up the nerve to get that tattoo he wanted?"

"No," Abby grabbed the mustard, smile widening at the idea of their cousin Chad Willingham sporting a tat. She opened that container as well. "He'd have said something if he did. What did he want anyway?" The black-haired woman began adding the condiments to her lunch. She looked up, ketchup bottle suspended over her fries. "I think he'd look good with a panther on his right gluteus medius."

Penny wrinkled her nose, trying to imagine skinny little Chad with any kind of body art. "I don't know. Maybe a . . ." Penny's voice trailed off, sandwich held halfway to her mouth, as something behind Abby caught the blonde's attention. "What the . . .?"

Abby frowned in puzzlement and whirled around, pigtails swishing over her shoulders. "Oh! She's beautiful!" Abby rose slowly to her feet, never taking her eyes from the sight in the doorway.

Her cousin Penny slowly stood, too, mouth dropped open in a mark of wonder.

"Oh, I want one, Penny!" Abby clapped her hands together, black fingernail polish catching a shine of light. The dark-haired woman strode quickly towards the door, smiling in gentle welcome.

"You want a kid?" Penny blinked in surprise and hurried to follow Abby out of the café.

xxx

The hum of industry filled the bullpen; computer programs processing, voices chatting, and phones ringing blended into one low cacophony.

Ziva David stared intently at the back of Tony DiNozzo's styled blond hair. He kept lifting his hand to swat at his head though nothing visible plagued him. She smiled at his reaction to being watched. As he turned to check behind him, Ziva lowered her eyes to her own work, playing the innocent.

"Cut it out," he hissed, obviously annoyed. His eyes trained specifically on Ziva's lowered head, the file cabinet in front of him still hanging open.

Ziva allowed a small smile to play across her lips, slowly raising her dark brown eyes to meet Tony's blue ones. "And what am I to cut out, Tony?"

"You know what," he hissed and absently slammed the drawer shut. Tony sank into his chair, ignoring his computer monitors, and continued to glare at Ziva. "You keep staring at . . ." Without warning, Tony's anger turned to sexy flirtation and his smile curved over his handsome face. "You can't get enough of me."

"What!" Ziva's normally husky voice sounded shocked. "I get plenty of you!"

"Uh . . ." Tim McGee, passing by the pair at the exact wrong moment, stumbled, eyes widening in shock in his round face.

Tony leaned back in his chair, slipping his hands behind his head, fingers laced together. His grin widened as he looked at their fellow investigator. "That's right, Mc-Geek. She's . . ."

"She's what, DiNozzo." The bark of commanded radiated from the statement; it was not a question.

Everyone in the NCIS bullpen straightened conscientiously, as always happened when Senior Agent Jethro Gibbs entered. The tall, slim ex-Marine walked off the last steps from the office above and strode directly to his own desk in the center of the bullpen.

Tony began typing in a seemingly random fashion on his computer, his eyes trained on the screen. "Nothing important, Boss," he said then wished he could retract it.

"Nothing important, DiNozzo?" Gibbs stood in front of his desk, eyes flicking over the never-ending loop of video and information which played almost continuously on the big screen between Tony and McGee's desks. The supervisor fairly radiated energy as his voice snapped with disapproving authority. "You've found the bastard?"

Everyone cringed . . . there was no other word for it. Evidently, Gibbs was in a foul mood, as he often was after meeting with Director Jenny Shepard. However, which '_bastard_' the senior agent spoke of was anyone's guess; there were so many still out there and all of the team had open cases.

Fortunately, Tony was prepared for such a question. "Yes, Boss. He's been arrested and should be on his way to lock up," Tony checked his watche and turned his eyes back to Gibbs, "now."

Gibbs looked at Ziva, not acknowledging Tony's success in catching a military grocery thief.

Ziva nodded. "Right," she said as if Gibb's stare had been a verbal command. "Petty Officer Collins was located this morning shedded with his girlfriend at the motel . . ."

"Shedded, Agent David?"

The transfer Mossad Officer flinched at her superior's tone then flinched again when Tony jumped in with, "I think you mean _shacked up_." She nodded and corrected her English idiom as she continued. ". . . shacked up with his girlfriend at the motel. He's in custody awaiting DNA results."

"Uh," McGee drew attention to himself before Gibbs could turn to him. The junior investigator felt more in control when he volunteered; when Gibbs asked, McGee always felt like he was flunking some unknown test instead of solving military crimes. "I'm running checks on all black or dark colored Cadillacs on base, of every year."

Gibbs opened his mouth to reply but his words were cut off by an enthusiastic, "Guess what I found!"

Abby Sciuto ran from the open elevator doors and around Ziva's desk to stop in front of Gibbs. She spread her feet in a stance of unconscious confidence, hands clasping together in obvious excitement. "You'll never guess," Abby smiled up at Gibbs, ignoring his dark look. "Come on, try." Abby was one person who seemed not to fear Gibbs, but his dark moods were rarely directly on her.

"I don't know, Abbs," Jethro Gibbs seemed more frustrated than indulgent at her interruption, but he did shift his attention from McGee, for which the junior agent was eternally grateful. "A unicorn?" Gibbs ventured, his voice tinged lightly with sarcasm.

Abby's green eyes widened and she brought her laced fingers up to clasp in front of her breastbone. "See, psychic!"

Tony stood from his chair and frowned incredulously. "Wait? You found a unicorn?"

"Isn't that what I just said, Tony?" Abby flashed him a grin then turned her attention back to Gibbs. "She's adorable, Gibbs. I want to keep her, but of course I can't. She needs to go home . . . and the wizard agreed. So, I want to help her and I have leave time so may I?"

Most of those present seemed overwhelmed by Abby's outpouring, but Gibbs ventured a translation anyway. He turned questioning blue eyes on the NCIS forensics expert and asked "you want to take leave to bring a unicorn home, Abby?"

Abby nodded in enthusiasm, one hand shooting out and pointing. "That's right, Gibbs. May I?"

"Unicorns are fairy stories," Ziva said, too confused to keep quiet.

"She doesn't smell like alcohol, Boss," DiNozzo observed.

McGee chimed in, "where would you see a unicorn?"

In reply, Abby shot McGee a thankful smile and the man realized that she thought he believed her. He sighed, mentally puzzling out how he could defeat the assumption that he believed in fairies and unicorns without disappointing Abby.

Gibbs held up both hands. "Where _did_ you see a unicorn, Abby, and how do you know a wizard?" Gibbs had seen too much in his life to worry about the reality of unicorns and magic; he was more concerned about Abby wanting to take leave from the lab to pursue some odd sounding flight of fancy.

Abby turned her bright smile on the older man. "I was eating lunch with Cousin Penny and . . ."

"You have a cousin named Penny?" Tony interrupted, his mind focusing on the irrelevant detail. "You never mentioned your cousin, your _female_ cousin, was visiting."

Gibbs turned a swift glare on Tony. "Shut up, DiNozzo."

"She's not your type, Tony," Abby said, a slight frown crossing her pretty features. "And Penny isn't visiting. She lives here. She's a computer forensics specialist at Quantico." Abby turned back to Gibbs and beamed at him. "We were eating lunch when the pair of them walked in the café."

"Pair of them?" Gibbs tightened his hand on the back of his chair.

With a nod, pigtails swishing over her shoulders, Abby said, "the unicorn and the wizard, Gibbs. They walked in and Penny and I went to meet them. They escaped from a demon and need to get home. And I want to help them, so may I, Gibbs? Please?" Abby's green eyes eagerly met Gibb's blue ones.

"And are they here, Abby?" DiNozzo challenged, still stung that she thought he wouldn't like her cousin. _If this Penny looks anything like Abby, she's hot enough to . . ._

The thought evaporated with Abby's snort and her fist punching DiNozzo's shoulder. "No, of course not. How could I get them clearance in ten minutes, Tony?"

"So where are they, Abbs?" Gibbs kept his voice patient, almost indulgent once more. Getting information from Abby was sometimes very difficult, but with time and the right questions, he was confident she'd reveal the important details. And time he had. There were no pressing cases for his team if they had cleared their desks. '_Except McGee_,' he reminded himself.

Abby nodded and flicked her hand towards Quantico. "Oh, Penny took them to the BAU." She turned to Tony with a smug smile. "She helps the profilers."

xxx

When Penny walked into the BAU unit, she glanced nervously around at the agents busily working at the various desks in the large sunken space. She took a breath then walked directly to the office of Aaron Hotchner, supervisory agent. Penny looked through the open door and took a breath, preparing to face her boss.

"Ah, sir?" Penny knocked on the door.

Hotchner looked up, noting the expert's tension. "Come in, Garcia. How can I help you?" He sounded as calm and unruffled as ever.

She smiled and walked into the officer. "Well, while I was at lunch with Abby, she's my cousin, we found a couple of . . . odd . . . kids." Penny shifted from one foot to the other, her voice dropping on the last words.

"Odd how?" Hotchner straightened further, a frown forming on his handsome, lean features.

Penny drew a deep breath and let it out in a rush. "One's a unicorn and the other's a wizard. They're downstairs right now in holding."

Slowly, Hotchner rose to his feet, his dark eyes intense. "A unicorn?" He walked around his desk and stopped in front of Penny. "You should explain on the way, Garcia."

"On the way?" confusion laced her voice.

Hotchner nodded. "I think I should meet these odd children," he said then walked from the room.

Penny watched him, her eyes wide in astonishment. After a heartbeat or two, she shuddered, as if waking up. "Oh!" Quickly, Penny hurried after the senior investigator, relating the unusual lunch encounter she'd had.

xxx

Continued in Chapter Four: In for a Pound

7


	4. In for a Pound

Chapter Title: In for a Pound

Author: Sam

Story: Reality Eludes All Living Monsters: 04 of 14

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 26

Characters: Rick, Martha, Alexis, Traci (OC), Rex (OC), Kate Beckett

Setting: Afternoon: Friday, December 9, 2005: New York City:

xxx

"My God, Richard, why on earth did you bring a dirty mop home?"

Rick Castle turned, his blue eyes shining in amusement as he took in the scrunched nose and offended expression of his mother, Martha Rogers. Considering her neatly tailored muted-yellow silk suit, polished white two-inch heels, sparkling amber jewelry, and white half-jacket, Rick couldn't begrudge his parent her despair over meeting with anything dirty, mop or otherwise.

Amusement laced his voice as his smile widened. "Hello, Mother. I believe it's not . . ." he didn't get further because his mother let out a horrified shriek.

Martha backed hurriedly towards the kitchen island, her flight arrested by the marble counter. "It moved! My god, I thought it was some huge toy you brought in a misguided attempt to please me. Richard, that's a live dog!"

"Yes, he is." Rick amiably reached out and scratched the dog's head, behind what was either an ear or a very large matted fur clump. "And I didn't bring him here, Mother."

"I did," Alexis Castle interrupted, a smile on her pretty, freckled face. The eleven year old had pulled her red hair back into a single ponytail and wore a light blue blouse with neatly pressed denim coveralls. "Some stupid kids were trying to light his tail on fire, so I claimed him and brought him here."

With a deep suffering sigh, Martha sank onto the nearest stool and ran a well-manicured hand over her face. "Why here? Why not the pound?"

Alexis's blue eyes widened. "But they kill strays at the pound," she said, "I read about it in . . . "

"Oh, never mind," Martha sighed turning to her son. "Just get it to a groomer at least."

Rick nodded and gestured to Alexis with his free hand. "Up for going to the dog groomer with me?" He grinned at his daughter who grinned back.

Martha shook her head. "You'll need an appointment. They don't accept walk-ins, Richard."

"How do you know?" he challenged on a laugh. "You've never owned a dog." He gave the bedraggled dog another scratch and his grin widened, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Let's see if they turn me away."

His mother threw both hands into the air and turned away. "Very well, Mister well-heeled author. You go get it groomed and I'll go curl up with a tall drink and a trashy novel."

Alexis opened the door and Rick laughed. "Mother, you don't read trashy novels. You'll be chatting on the internet with your beaus."

An elegant shrug of one shoulder showed Martha's acceptance of that truth, but she didn't say a word as she strolled towards her room.

Father turned to daughter and said, "Let's go, Sweetheart." He guided the dog by the matted ruff from the penthouse apartment the Castle family lived in, his daughter following only a pace behind.

The ride down in the elevator proved entertaining as people tried to simultaneously avoid the odiferous animal and not offend the richest family in the Manhattan apartment building. Rick talked enthusiastically to everyone they met while Alexis kept a hand on the dog and jumped into the conversation with surprisingly mature anecdotes, shocking the neighbors further. Finally, they came to the ground floor and Alexis took the lead, walking directly up to the porter at the wide glass doors.

"Hello. We're looking for a dog groomer, please." Her friendly tone and smiling face seemed to melt the man's heart, as it often did for those who met her. He gave the dog a once over but no expression showed on his face as he gave directions in a cool, professional manner.

Fondly, Rick watched his daughter interact with the man. Alexis was pure sunshine; she'd certainly lightened up his days. His only child was filled with surprising observations . . . observations he used often in his writing. Rick wondered how the readers would react to know that some of Derrick Storm's actions and insights actually came from an eleven year old girl. The idea amused him so much he chuckled, drawing his daughter's curious gaze. With a wave of a hand, he called out loudly, "lead on, McQueen."

"McDuff," she corrected him, returning his chuckle, and the pair fell into step with the dog between them, heading towards the closest groomer.

They got only a block before a bedraggled girl with dark hair and large denim blue eyes ran over to throw her arms around the dog. "Rex!"

She looked up at the pair and Rick immediately felt his heart constrict. _What monster let's his kid run around like this?_ Rick frowned briefly, but when the girl's expression turned scared he softened his own face into a gentle smile. "We were going to pamper him with a grooming, if you'll let us? I'm Rick. This is my daughter, Alexis. She found him."

Turning slowly, as if in pain and fear, the girl looked at Alexis. "Valerie?" She tilted her head then shook it, standing slowly. "No, Valerie's not a little kid."

Alexis took no offense at being called a little kid, even by someone maybe a couple of years older than herself. "Alexis," she said. "What's your name?"

"Traci," the girl said. Her dark eyes seemed to take in the clean, pressed appearance of the father and daughter before turning down to take in her own dirty, disreputable appearance. Traci looked back up. "I don't have money to get him . . . groomed."

Rick smiled wider and shrugged. "It's groom your dog day. We don't have one so we were hoping to find one to groom. I like the looks of . . ." he searched his memory for the name the girl had called out, pleased when his writer's memory for trivial information supplied it. "Rex and thought we'd get him groomed instead. If you'll let us, that is." Rick kept his smile friendly and open, his hands in plain sight. The kid seemed pretty skittish to him.

"You like the look of Rex?" Traci sounded doubtful as all three looked at the dirty, stinky mass of tangle fur before them.

"Sure do," Rick cheerfully went on. "He oughta give any groomer a run for his money, don't you think? We'll challenge the groomers to do their best."

Traci giggled then covered her mouth with one dirty, bruised and scratched hand.

An ache shot through Rick's heart and he had to forcefully fight the frown that wanted to cross his face. He wasn't going to scare this kid with his temper. She looked like she'd had enough problems recently. Anger simmered below the surface, but Rick, drawing on years of acting lessons from his professional actress mother, managed to keep his smile in place and his manner light. He began walking the dog and girls towards the groomer's shop front. "And when he's done, you will see a whole new side of Rex."

"He won third place at the Shetland Sheepdog Club," Traci said, her voice proud and a bit awed, "and he wasn't even twelve months at the time."

_A purebred show dog?_ Rick could hardly believe it of the disgusting mass of dirt and fur. He didn't argue with the kid, instead nodding as if he could see the great being under the filth. "Well then he definitely deserves a day of pampering. And so does his mistress."

Traci looked up at him with those denim-colored eyes and seemed to hesitate. Finally, she nodded and moved closer to Alexis, still keeping a hand on her dog. He couldn't hear what the girls whispered about, but Rick wasn't bothered by the secretive conversation. Any fears concerning his motives Traci had, Alexis would put straight. Sometimes it was better to let kids do the reassuring; they trusted each other more than they did adults . . . at least to Rick's thinking.

The whispers stopped as soon as the foursome arrived at the dog grooming salon. Rick took charge, leading the others inside where they were accompanied by gasps followed by silence. Not letting the shock perturb him, Rick strode directly to the woman behind the decorative counter and gave her his sexiest smile.

"Richard Castle."

He let the name sink in, not above using his fame and fortune to get what he wanted. Apparently Derrick Storm's popularity had infiltrated even the hallowed halls of the dog world. After another heart beat, Rick leaned into the counter, closer to the flushing twenty-something blonde at reception. Reading amidst the flowers and hearts on her name tag, he said, "Hi, Sallie. I've been on a book signing tour," which was perfectly truthful; he'd only returned the night before, "and didn't get to make an appointment for the king," another truth, since he hadn't known the dog in advance. With a wave of his hand, Rick indicated the poor beast he'd brought in. "He's been getting into mischief while I've been gone so I thought I'd treat myself to your . . ." Rick paused as if catching himself in an embarrassing faux pas then shifted what he was saying, as if to cover the mistake, "him to a spa day." He kept his eyes on the pert blonde, his attitude displaying a desire to spend time with her rather than get a dog bathed.

It worked. The flustered woman nodded and asked "his name is Elvis?" Her professional demeanor seemed more distracted than dedicated.

Rick said, "No, it's Rex."

"Lord Reginald of Southland," Traci said, her voice small and scared.

A murmur rolled over the room and Rick had the distinct feeling he'd missed something important. He turned, looking at the doubt and shock on every face there. Alexis seemed just as confused as he was, but Traci looked decidedly more uncomfortable than surprised. Rick merely nodded, trying to regain the control he'd garnered with his name dropping.

"That's right, Sallie." He turned his smile on the receptionist who seemed pale and unsettled. "This is Lord Reginald, who won third at the . . ."

"Shetland Sheepdog Club two years ago," Sallie finished, her voice awed and somewhat disapproving.

_Disapproving?_ Rick couldn't understand how the entire atmosphere had changed so quickly. What was with the dog that these people seemed to disapprove him so much? He looked little better than a hobo at present but even the initial disgust shown to Rex had turned into a nearly hostile environment. Rick's smile slipped into a frown as he glanced around the room at the closed expressions and disapproving eyes.

"We can see him right now, Mister Castle," Sallie interrupted, drawing the writer's attention back to her.

Relieved, Rick nodded and smiled once more. "Hey, can we watch? I've never seen a dog professionally groomed, and I might be able to use it for a book." He gave his most charming smile to Sallie, his voice hopeful. He didn't want to let that dog out of his sight; Rick Castle didn't trust these people any more. The decidedly chilly atmosphere put him on guard.

Sallie actually looked relieved at the request. She nodded, her smile flashing though not as vibrant as Rick's. "That would be wonderful, Mister Castle, children." Her eyes swept the tailored look of Alexis then seemed to stumble over the worn, dirty appearance of Traci. "Uh . . . right this way, please."

As she led the trio of humans and the lone dog back towards the grooming stations, the faint sound of sirens could be heard in the distance while the buzz of conversation began once more in the waiting room.

xxx

Afternoon: Friday, December 9, 2005: New York City:

Homicide detective Kate Beckett looked up from the report she typed. Someone was doing the perp walk and she always watched if she could. She wanted to know if it was that elusive someone she kept watching for: her mother's murderer. Of course, she wouldn't be able to identify him on sight; the crime was unsolved, but some inner part of the brunette insisted she'd know the killer on sight. So she watched.

The man being brought down the hallway had brown, styled hair and blue eyes. His clothes screamed expensive. He had an air of arrogant confidence about him, though he did look adorably confused at the moment. Something was familiar about him and Kate watched intently as the man was led into an interrogation room, Detective Don Flack guiding him.

She frowned and looked back at her paperwork. Don had been called out on some child homicide that morning. Was that the suspect?

One glance at the clock told her it was break time so she reached into her desk for the current Derek Storm crime novel she was reading. She could puzzle Don's moves for years and still not be satisfied; she'd have to ask him later when he was free. Eyes falling on the back cover of her book, a jolt ran through Kate. There was the picture of the author, Richard Castle . . . the man in the interrogation room.

Part of her wondered what crime he would have been forced down the walk for and another hoped he was only a witness. Richard Castle was her favorite crime author. She certainly didn't want the authentic writing style he employed to be based on actual crimes he did.

"Beckett, my office."

Kate looked up at the Lieutenant and nodded, slipping the book back into her desk. Break was over before it began apparently. She followed the man into the office, pushing all thoughts of Don's case, and his suspect, from her mind. She had a job to do, and that certainly didn't involve mooning over a famous author.

xxx

Continued in Chapter Five: Perchance to Hallucinate

6


	5. Perchance to Hallucinate

Chapter Title: Perchance to Hallucinate

Author: Sam

Story: Reality Eludes All Living Monsters: 05 of 14

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 26

Characters: Calleigh, Speed, Delko, (OC) Carmen, (OC) Hugh, (OC) Billy

Setting: Morning: Friday, December 9, 2005: Miami:

xxx

The Latin rhythm seemed to hum right through her as Calleigh Duquesne stepped past the doorman and onto the darkened balcony. On the under-lit dance floor below, colorful lights strobed over the dancers, pulsing with the throbbing beat of the music. Couples moved, entwined in various simulations of a passionate affair, bodies moving as one. Calleigh wondered why she'd never really noticed how downright sexual Latin dancing was. Feeling her heartbeat increase, as if trying to match that sensual rhythm, the attractive blonde moved down the catwalk, heading for the spiral stairs that would take her into that world of sensual passion.

Arriving on the edge of the dance floor, Calleigh let herself indulge in a little people-watching before she would try to find her party. She was here to enjoy herself. Calleigh wasn't unaware of the admiring glances shot her way in spite of her slightly rounded belly; the petite blonde knew she was a rarity in the mostly Hispanic crowd. Smiling confidently, she let the tip of her tongue dart out to moisten her lips, eyes roving appreciatively over several of the men in return. Her attention was so caught up in the flirtatious game that she was unaware that a dark-haired observer broke away from the crowded sidelines to approach her from behind.

"Catch a glimpse of Delko?"

With a small gasp of surprise, Calleigh's hand fluttered up to cover her heart. She whirled a glare settling on her pretty features. "Don't do that, Speed!" Just to have him sneak up on her was bad enough; add that to the fact that she'd thought he was dead for a year and it made for a potent combination of fear and tension. Letting the frown slip from her face, Calleigh was rarely ever angry for long, the blonde turned her gaze back to the dancers, nodding absently at her companion's quiet, apologetic rumble. "So, is he on the dance . . ." her voice drawled off as she spotted the obvious answer to her question.

Eric Delko danced a rather heated Rhumba with his beautiful partner. The pair seemed oblivious to all of the other couples, their eyes rarely, if ever, leaving one another as they moved to the slow beat and throbbing music. Out of all the dancers, though some were extremely talented, it seemed _that_ pair was the most in-tune to one another, the most connected, and it seemed somehow decadent watching them: like spying through a window of a private bedroom.

Calleigh's hand moved from covering her racing heart to fanning her heated face as she watched the pair practically making love on the dance floor, though if one looked carefully enough, neither touched the other in any way inappropriately . . . their synchronized movements and intense connection were enough to turn any head.

"I think I need a drink," the petite blonde said, faintly.

Speed chuckled and handed over his glass, watching the tiny woman as she downed the contents in one long draught, absently noting that it had been a cola. When she handed the empty container back, he followed her gaze once more to their friend and his sexy partner. Speed found himself having to bend his six foot frame to catch what his five foot, two inch partner was saying.

"Is that his new girlfriend?" The music was coming to an end.

The dark-haired man frowned softly at the blonde. "No, that's Carmen, she's . . ."

But he didn't get to finish as the pair turned and caught a glimpse of them. The woman's dark eyes widened at the sight of the pair then rolled back into her head as she slumped to the floor, Delko grabbing her just before she hit. He looked embarrassed and worried and apologetic all at once. "Carmen? Damn! I forgot to tell her!"

"Tell her what?" Calleigh called as she and Speed hurried to the pair near the middle of the floor. Delko didn't answer her inquiry.

They had to wade through a gathering group, and it wasn't until Speed pulled his badge and called, "Police, let us through," that they were granted access to Eric and his dance partner. She came around but no one wanted to let her up just yet.

Kneeling, Speed sent a glare to Eric. "You forgot to tell her about me, didn't you?" His voice was intense with anger; apparently he thought Carmen fainted when she saw a man supposedly a year dead. Eric's helpless look only confirmed his friend's suspicion.

Interrupting the two men, Calleigh leaned forward and smiled gently at the prostrate woman. "Hey, take it easy. Did you hit your head on the way down?" She drew the deep, dark eyes of the woman and nodded in encouragement as Carmen slowly sat up, using Speed's strong hand and arm for support.

In bewilderment the woman looked at Speed, studying his dark curls, brown eyes, and lightly tanned skin. She reached a careful hand up to stroke his stubbled cheek once then brought it around in a hard, resounding slap across Eric's darker cheek. Fire lit her eyes and she glared at her dance partner. "How dare you keep this from me, Eric!" Her accent sounded lightly Hispanic, with a hint of something else tucked in, reminiscent of Eric's mixed Cuban-Russian accented English.

Speed looked wickedly amused while Calleigh felt a bit surprised.

"You had three months," Speed added maliciously and the woman bent another forceful glare on the usually popular ladies man.

"Three months, Eric?" Her voice dripped venom. "Three months to tell me Timothy was really alive and you kept it quiet?" Then she was off in a peal of Spanish invectives hurled at the man's head, not that his two friends couldn't understand her; both spoke the Spanish language fluently.

Eric tried to interrupt her several times before finally giving up, shooting a pleading look at his now chuckling friends. "Help me out here . . ."

"But she's right, Eric," Calleigh grinned. "You had plenty of time to tell her Tim's back before shocking her at a night club."

Speed apparently took pity on his best friend. He gently tapped Carmen's shoulder, drawing her suddenly silent attention. "Hey, _Carmenita_." His voice was gentler than either investigator had ever heard it.

The tactic worked and Carmen's expression softened considerably. "Timothy . . ." she threw her arms around his neck and started sobbing. Speed hesitated a fraction of a second before sliding his arms comfortingly around the young woman and simply holding her.

Relief crossed Eric's face at the reprieve. He looked to Calleigh and explained, "Carmen's know Speed for a couple of years. She met him at one of our block parties in Little Havana. She took it pretty hard when he . . . well . . ." Eric ended on a shrug and looked at his dance partner and best friend still down on the dance floor.

"We better do this reunion elsewhere," Calleigh laughed and tugged on Speed's arm.

He nodded and helped Carmen up, guiding her around Eric, whom she glared at, and up the spiral staircase towards some tables near the entrance. Calleigh slid her hand onto Eric's arm and tugged him after the pair, her dancing blue-green eyes echoing the laughter in her light voice. Eric followed, a deepening frown on his handsome face.

xxx

"No children," the voice of the bouncer rang out, drawing the attention of the quartet sitting at one of the closest tables. The large man stood, arms folded, towering over a pair of blonde boys, one in his later teens, the other no more than thirteen. It wasn't the sight of children trying to get into the club that drew attention so much as how those children were _dressed_.

The older boy wore complete leather of a soft, green color, studs lining the upper part of what could only be called his tunic, which hung down past his hips and gathered at the waist. Knee-high leather boots of brown and a brown belt completed the odd ensemble. The younger boy wore a floor-length purple cloak over a fur loin cloth, a couple of crisscrossed leather bandoliers and a pair of fur-lined boots. They appeared to be some throw backs to a Renaissance Festival.

Then the behavior of the pair became apparent. The younger listlessly leaned into the elder, seemingly unaware of his loud, colorful surroundings; the older boy seemed a bit more lucid, despite his dazed blue eyes. He wasn't backing down, facing the man squarely.

"Sir, we're in danger . . . please . . ."

Immediately the investigators realized there was something wrong and began to rise to their feet, Eric taking long enough to turn to Carmen and tell her, "wait here," before following his colleagues. They approached carefully, intently watching the encounter as it played out before them.

"I said '_no kids_'. Get out before I have to get nasty."

The teen apparently searched his brain for a way to reply when his eyes fell on the approaching officers. Relief crossed his features and he gestured towards the trio. "There . . ." he never took his eyes from the investigators, "We're here for her." The boy pointed straight at Calleigh.

She did a small double-take, resisting the double urge to protectively curl an arm over her abdomen and conversely check over her shoulder. Thinking fast, the ballistics expert stepped forward and smiled at the bouncer then turned her attention to the older boy. His eyes were definitely dull, most likely with drugs. "Well, you've found me. What can I do for y'all?" Her smile encompassed both children.

The bouncer rolled his eyes and gestured towards the door. "Great, they found you. Now you can all leave."

Calleigh merely nodded and walked towards the door, Speed following with a frown, eyeing the kids distrustfully. Eric looked torn between accompanying his friends and going back for his dance partner. With a frown, he turned towards the lone woman at the table and signaled that he had to leave. She nodded, and as he turned back towards the exit she got up to follow, apparently taking his signal to mean that she should come with them.

Once outside the petite investigator turned to the two boys, her smile firmly in place but her body poised for action if necessary. "I'm Detective Duquesne. How can I help you?"

With a tilt of his head, the younger boy leaned heavily against his companion staring dully past the adults, no sign of interest in his light blue eyes. His behaved so listlessly, it was almost terrifying. He seemed unaware of what was happening directly around him, more dead weight than alive, leaning on his friend.

"I'm Hugh," the older boy nearly whispered, his eyes darting around suddenly as if he suspected someone of overhearing. "We . . . we need sanctuary."

"Sanctuary," Speed's frown deepened. "Do we look like a church?"

Confusion flitted briefly across the older boy's face but he struggled to regain his equilibrium. "They're going to kill us."

That did it. All three officers were immediately on the alert.

Eric noticed Carmen following them and frowned severely, drawing his attention briefly from the kids. "Carmen, go home," his words were curt, to the point of rudeness, surprising Calleigh. He didn't give her a chance to protest, handing his keys to the pretty Hispanic woman. "Go."

Carmen frowned, but took the keys to the Lexus and walked off without a word.

Speed shook his head, muttering, "You'll get it the next time you see her." But his attention was directed more towards the boys than the retreating woman. A little louder he asked, "Who's going to kill you?"

"Master Vincent," murmured the younger boy in a defiant, if almost deadened, voice. He sounded as if he were dreaming, sleep walking and merely vaguely reacting to what happened. His reactions worried the investigators.

"Let's get you to safety," Calleigh said gesturing towards her car.

A long moment passed before the older boy, Hugh, responded. "Right. Come on, Billy." He surprised the trio of investigators by actually hefting the rather stocky near-teen into his arms and heading towards the car.

With a deep frown, Speed gripped Calleigh's upper arm and quietly said, "Listless and dull, delayed reactions, but a great deal of strength . . . possible paranoia . . . what are those kids on?"

She shook her head, "I don't know but they belong in a hospital."

The three headed towards the parked vehicles: Speed for his bike and Eric following Calleigh, since his car was headed who knew where with his pretty dance partner.

Once in the vehicle Eric opened Calleigh's kit and pulled out a pair of gloves and a couple of swabs. The gloves were a very tight fit, as his hands were larger than hers, but he put them on anyway. Turning, he watched as the older boy settled the younger on a seat and belted him in then belted himself. '_At least he's safety conscious_,' the man thought.

"I'm going to swab your mouth," he didn't add why, and the boy didn't ask. Hugh just looked at him blankly for a moment or two then nodded and opened up his mouth. Eric looked at Calleigh then turned and swabbed the teen's cheek, swabbing the younger Billy's cheek after. "Have you had any drugs?"

He knew what the obvious answer was but wanted to hear what the boys would say. Surprisingly they remained cooperative and complacent.

"I think so," Hugh frowned, light blue eyes troubled but dull. "I think they put it in our food."

"Who're _they_?" Calleigh piped up, carefully maneuvering around the night traffic of Miami.

"Master Vincent and Master Douglas," Billy once more spoke up. "We thought Master Douglas was our friend, but he's as evil as Master Vincent!" The beginning of interest rose in the boy's voice and he turned slightly in his seat, one hand feeling around as if searching. "Hey!"

Hugh immediately reached over to cover Billy's hand and soothe him. "They took them." The words were ambiguous until Calleigh realized they were meant for the preteen, not the adults. Hugh's next comment was for his rescuers: "Master Vincent must have found a way to corrupt Master Douglas. And now they're trying to kill us."

Suddenly Eric wondered if these kids had gotten toked up on drugs and were thinking some sort of fantasy game was their reality instead. He frowned but kept his disbelief to himself as he carefully asked, "Where are these two masters?"

Billy fell back into disinterested listlessness, but Hugh turned towards the man, looking like he was struggling with thought. "I . . . I'm not exactly sure. After they killed . . . Daneesha and Aaron . . ." his voice broke on the names, but he fiercely continued, "I knew we had to get out. I couldn't get everyone, but I had to at least get Billy out. Sarah would want that." His story didn't explain much but it did paint a larger, more horrible picture than they thought. "So, I didn't eat tonight. I fed it to the . . ." again, he seemed to have trouble thinking, finally shrugging and skipping ahead. "Well, I waited until it was dark, then grabbed Billy and headed out of camp. I wanted to grab Unity, because she's so little, but they had her tied up."

At that, the stocky younger boy frowned and turned a fierce look on his older, leaner companion. "We need to get Unity and Sarah. We have to go back!"

"We will." Hugh tried to soothe his young friend. "But we need help. We can't do it alone, without weapons."

Fortunately they were pulling into the emergency room drive at that point. It wouldn't be long before they could identify the children and their attackers, if these men even existed outside the boys' drug-fueled imagination.

xxx

Continued in Chapter Six: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

7


	6. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Chapter Title: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Author: Sam

Story: Reality Eludes All Living Monsters: 06 of 14

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 26

Characters: Nick, Cath, Brass, OC: Daneesha

Setting: Evening, Friday, December 9, 2005: Las Vegas:

xxx

Jim frowned at Nick and Cath, his arms crossed and his feet spread in a subconsciously severe manner. "And the manager didn't give a crap that you walked off with one of his dancers?" He uncrossed his arms and glanced through the window over-looking the interrogation room then back at Nick, directly. "A dancer that's probably under-aged, drugged, and a terrific reason to have him shut down?"

Sighing, Nick nodded, still looking through the glass at the huddled figure in the other room. What he saw right then was a scared, confused kid who was sitting complacently in a hard, steel chair. Her brown eyes were huge and her kinked hair seemed dull and almost stringy in the harsh, cold light of the interrogation room. She was wrapped in a non-descript grey blanket, but underneath, Nick knew, she had only a fur-like bikini and calf-high boots.

The man drew his sympathetic gaze from the girl in the other room and nodded, grimly, at his friend and co-worker. "Yeah, for the tenth time, Brass; not a peep. He let me take her away and not even a bouncer lifted a finger. He glanced at an equally worried Cath, who merely stood with hands on hips, studying the young figure in the other room.

"There's gonna be some sort of trouble from this one, Nick. Have you been able to get anything out of her?"

Cath spoke up at that point. "Not yet. She gave us a blank stare, as if she didn't even understand the language. It's looking more and more like this might be an Immigration problem, not just an underage drug problem. I'm more disturbed by the tox results. She's riddled with a cocktail of drugs: GHB, heroine, and valium of all things. She's lucky to be alive."

"What's her name?"

The question came from the door, drawing three sets of eyes to the newest player in this little drama. Gil Grissom strode in, a detached sort of curiosity hanging about him. As he made his way to the window, however, and saw the obvious signs of an under-aged victim, that detachment quickly morphed into controlled anger. There were three things he hated, and child abusers ranked about equal to women abusers on his list.

Cath sighed at her supervisor and lover's question. "We can't tell. Her stage name was Diversity, but she seems unable to answer even the simplest questions. Hodges is trying to dig up a list of translators so we can run the gamut of languages on her. I've already tried my limit, and so have Nick and Jim."

"Is she deaf?"

All three stared at Gil as if he'd said the sun was pink and green-striped. With a slow, wondering shake of his head, Nick drawled out, "Actually, I'm ashamed to say I never thought to check." He looked back through the glass at the petite figure and sighed, stepping a bit closer to the separating two-way mirror. "It never crossed my mind she might not be hearing us."

Gil nodded and without a word, headed back out of the tiny observation room. In mere minutes there was a very loud knocking from the door of the interrogation room. The sound drew the girl's reaction immediately, proving she could hear quite well: she scrambled under the table and watched the door with intent eyes, her hand absently groping at her hip as if for a weapon of some sort.

Cath immediately hit the intercom button, intent on warning Gil while trying to soothe the girl if she could. "Please relax; no one will hurt you, Diversity."

The door opened, but, much to the relief of the three investigators watching, Diversity never moved. Gil walked in, mentally noting Cath's warning, and quickly spotted the reason. He stayed by the door and asked, in a calm, steady voice, "What is your name?"

For her part, the girl carefully slinked closer to view the new-comer. With a puzzled frown, she slid from under the table, apparently either seeing Gil as a non-threat or deciding that cooperation might go over better with this new man. The pair studied each other as the girl carefully righted her chair and sank back onto its hard surface, readjusting the blanket protectively over her scantily-clad frame.

When the girl finally seemed settled, Gil asked again from his station by the door, "What is your name." He didn't raise his voice or draw the syllables out, but he did make eye contact and carefully enunciate the words, in case she read lips. Some deaf people could hear noise but not make out words.

The girl tilted her head then slowly responded in an equally calm manner, "Daneesha." Her voice was strong and husky, her manner as equally at ease, as if she weren't in some strange room with an unknown man. "What is yours?"

In the other room, the three were surprised. Not once in the last three hours had the girl indicated she understood them. Nick shook his head. "What is it about Griss that makes women trust him?"

With a small smile, Cath shrugged. "He's not as threatening as Jim, and he's not the one who was watching her dance, Nicky. Maybe she thinks you're a pervert."

Nick threw a small frown her way, but decided not to take insult at the joke. They both knew that he might be a ladies man but he was far from being a pervert. If anything, Nick Stokes was more inclined to get himself in trouble trying to help a member of the fairer sex than to ever consider hurting one.

"Or maybe," Jim Brass cut in, "the drugs are starting to wear off and she can think straight now."

"There is that," Cath added with a nod, her attention once more riveted on Gil and the girl apparently called Daneesha.

Moving closer at a normal pace, sensing the girl wasn't exactly afraid of _him_, Gil replied evenly, "My name is Dr. Gil Grissom. I'm a criminal investigator for Las Vegas." He moved to the chair opposite the girl and sat down, watching her but not making any undue advances or movements towards her. She seemed to settle a little more, but didn't ask any more questions. He went on with the interrogation.

"How old are you, Daneesha?"

The girl seemed genuinely surprised by the question, denoting that she wasn't used to being picked up by the police for under-aged dancing or even drugs. She tilted her head, as if thinking about the answer, and finally said, "I don't know. It wasn't important in the Realm."

The odd reference drew all three watchers to immediate full attention. Nick barely whispered, "I picked her up at the Cat's Meow. I've never heard of a club called The Realm."

Gil nodded and asked directly, "What is the Realm?"

Daneesha laughed softly and settled back in her chair as if any threat posed by her new situation had just been eliminated completely. "I see. You're an Outsider. That makes sense." She smiled, her face lighting up radiantly and drawing Nick's breath in a hiss. In a couple more years, she'd be irresistible… that smile made her drop dead gorgeous. "You'd find it easier to ask Master Vincent about the Realm. I'm just an acrobat."

Gil frowned, puzzled. "You were found dancing at a night club. Is that club part of this Realm?"

"Night club?" Suddenly her relaxed demeanor was gone and the girl looked around in confusion. "What night club?"

Cath sighed. "That'll be that cocktail we found in her system. She's got her memories mixed up and whatever this Realm is, she might not even realize she'd be taken out of it and put in that club. Without further evidence or information, I'd say whoever this Master Vincent is, he's grabbing kids and drugging them, then placing them in lucrative, illegal spots to turn a big profit."

Nick jumped in with, "I'll check missing persons, Cath." And, much as he wanted to stay and listen to what the kid he rescued said, the young investigator hurried from the room to try to find her past. He knew that Diversity wasn't her real name, and it was all likelihood that neither was Daneesha, but it was something.

Gil, in the interrogation room, was unaware of the activities of his team. Instead, he asked, "Is Master Vincent in charge of the Realm?"

As if she was suddenly once more on steady footing, the girl leaned forward and calmly said, "No. He's evil incarnate. Master Douglas' in charge and they fight all the time. But, just this year, Master Douglas made us promise to obey Master Vincent, too. He said things had changed and Master Vincent was no longer the enemy. We don't really agree, but Master Douglas has always been right; he wouldn't suddenly hand us over to the enemy if that enemy was still an enemy."

It really made little if any sense to Gil, but he forged ahead, looking for some information they could act on. "We? Who else?"

"There are a lot of us," Daneesha's voice suddenly turned wary. "Talk to Master Vincent." And, just like that, she shut down, drawing in on herself and pulling away from the conversation.

In one last attempt at information, Gil nodded solemnly as he said, "All right. I'll do that. Where can I find Master Vincent?"

Daneesha merely looked at Gil and grinned in a way reminiscent of mischievousness. "He'd be in the Realm." Then she crossed her arms and refused to answer any more questions, no matter how Gil worded them. The young African-American teen remained totally silent, a small smile playing over her drawn, but beautiful face.

xxx

Continued in Chapter Seven: (CSI NY: when written)

4


	7. A Question of Convenience

Chapter Title: A Question of Convenience

Author: Sam

Story: Reality Eludes All Living Monsters: 07 of 14

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 26

Chapter Characters: Mac, Danny, Sheldon, Stella, Lindsay, Don Flack, Aiden, Rick Castle, OC

Setting: Evening: Friday, December 9, 2005: New York City.

xxx

"You have got to be kidding, Mac." Shock reverberated through Stella's voice. "That kid shouldn't be alive."

Mac nodded, frowning. Most of his team had been sent back to their original crime scenes, though he'd transferred Stella and Sheldon to the boy. "With that cocktail, a full grown adult would be dead," he confirmed. He moved carefully around the hospital bed, watching the black-haired teenager draw slow controlled breaths.

Part of the miracle was that the kid didn't need a ventilator, though he was on numerous other life monitoring machines that would whir into action at the slightest negative drop in his vitals. The boy appeared fit, well tanned, and lean. The armor had been made from real metal, though of an inexpensive variety painted to look gold and sapphire, and had weighed seventy-five pounds all told: a heavy costume for a teenager to sport, especially one as messed up on drugs as this one.

"Rohypnol, heroine, and diazepam in these levels could probably kill three grown men," a nurse interrupted from the doorway. "Wherever he partied, it needs to be raided." She moved quietly into the room and began the routine of checking all the boy's tubes and wires as well as the readouts from his various machines. "He's lucky your guys stumbled on him," she added with a brief smile at Mac.

Nodding once, Mac looked to Sheldon and Stella. "We need to find his family. That armor couldn't have been cheap and neither would the drugs."

"I'm on it, Mac." Stella sidled around the machines and nurse to get to the door of the tightly packed room. "I'll scan missing persons and . . ."

"Where?" the boy's rasping voice brought everyone to a standstill.

Before the investigators could react, the nurse was by the teen's head and smiling. "You gave us quite a scare, mister. What's your name?"

"Where's," the boy gulped, brown eyes opening to scan the room then closing. "Master?"

'_A live action role play,'_ Sheldon thought but asked "what's your master's name?"

The boy's eyes opened again and he rasped, "Vincent." He swallowed and the nurse offered a cup of water with a straw; he hadn't been deemed in need of a nasogastric tube for feeding yet. The boy drank only a little before continuing, "Master Vincent."

"What's your name?" the nurse tried again.

This time the boy frowned, but answered readily, "Aaron." He restlessly moved his hands, though he was limited by the tubes and wires. "Where's my shield?"

"It's safe with your armor," Sheldon said. "Why were you wearing armor, Aaron?"

Aaron's eyes moved to take in Sheldon. The boy seemed agitated and restless. His voice was heavy with the drugs in his system. "Uniform. Have to. Gotta protect others." He took another drink from the proffered cup.

Sheldon nodded. Questioning the boy was difficult with his precarious medical state. Trying yet again, Sheldon asked, "Aaron, what's your last name?"

"Where's Hugh?" the boy shot back in a slightly annoyed tone, his eyes roving over the three investigators and the nurse. "Is Daneesha back?"

"Back from where?" Sheldon followed the subject change, willing to take any information he could get.

"Quest," Aaron's eyes began to close but he fought the drowsiness. "Need to get others."

"Aaron, stay with me buddy." Sheldon reached over and patted the boy's cheek.

Opening his eyes, Aaron looked up at the African-American investigator. "What?" there was real annoyance in the boy's petulant tone. "Tired."

Sheldon nodded. "What's your last name, Aaron?" He needed to get this kid back on track, but it wasn't happening.

The dark-haired teen merely muttered under his breath and drifted back to sleep amid the regular almost-soothing tones of the various machines.

"What did he say?" Mac frowned.

"Stupid unicorn," Sheldon translated. He looked up and shook his head. "We didn't get a lot to go on."

"I'll check into the local gaming scene, find out who live role plays. Someone has to know this Master Vincent." Stella frowned. "I'll see how many Aarons are into fantasy games involving full armor and unicorns." Turning towards the door, she said, "A last name would have helped."

A smooth light baritone from the hallway said, "I believe it's Montgomery."

Stella stopped and Mac and Sheldon stood up.

The man standing outside the room was about six feet tall with styled brown hair and gentle blue eyes. He appeared to be in his early thirties with only the lightest of tans. He wore an expensive tailored suit with Italian leather shoes. In one hand he held a bouquet of lilies and orchids, not the easiest flowers to acquire without some ready cash. The man smiled, his expression gentle and welcoming. His voice sounded soothing as he continued, "I'm Raphael Engel. And judging by his looks, the boy is either Milton or Aaron Montgomery of the Palm Beach Montgomerys." His accent marked him as upper society Boston.

Raphael didn't move to enter the room. Instead, he turned to head down the hall leading towards intensive care.

"Wait!" Stella called after him, drawing the man back.

He smiled at her. "Yes? I'm sorry I interrupted you, but I didn't think your question rhetorical, Officer . . .?"

"Bonasera," Stella provided and offered a friendly smile for the passerby. "You know this kid?"

With a lift of one shoulder, the man shook his head. "I never was introduced personally, but my brother Sariel lives in Florida. I'd see the Montgomerys during visits. The older boy, Milton, would be in his early twenties and is rather a prodigal in the family. The younger boy would be a senior in high school, if I recall correctly, but he's been missing for two or three years so I can't be certain." He turned his attention to the boy sleeping in the bed. "I can call Sariel if you wish? He would know the missing Montgomery boy."

Witnesses and clues didn't just fall into one's lap like this. It was too easy. Mac finally took control, frowning softly. "Would you mind answering a few questions, Mr. Engel?"

"My I visit my sister first?" Raphael countered with a smile, apparently not offended by being questioned by the investigators.

"I'll walk you down," Mac stated firmly to which the other man nodded agreeably. The former Chicago cop stepped into the hall but didn't get further.

Don Flack was practically running towards them.

"Don?" Mac frowned to see the detective hurrying. It didn't bode well when Don felt the need to run.

"Traci Parks just showed up, Mac," he panted, stopping right in front of the shorter investigator. "At a dog grooming parlor in upper Manhattan. She had her dog with her."

Stella, like all the investigators in the lab, knew of Mac's cold cases. She touched his arm, drawing his attention briefly. "I can talk to Mr. Engel, Mac. You go to Traci."

Mac turned a look on Raphael. After a heartbeat, he said "if you wouldn't mind Detective Bonasera questioning you, Mr. Engel?"

"Not at all," Raphael replied, smiling gently. "A missing girl is a serious matter. You take care of her and I'll cooperate fully with your investigation."

Mac nodded and hurried down the hall next to Don. "Was she alone?"

"No," Don panted, "the guy with her's being held for questioning at the precinct."

It wasn't until they crossed into another hall that Mac realized the stranger had known Traci Parks was a missing child, too. "Damn!" He pulled out his phone and called Sheldon to let him know to detain Raphael Engel for more than a few questions. The man conveniently knew far too much.

xxx

"I wanted to annoy my mother, actually," Rick Castle had stopped smiling by the third hour of interrogation. Fortunately his daughter had been released into his mother's care after a brief interview.

"And where did you get the dog, Mister Castle." The heavy-set older man had asked the question at least a dozen times in as many ways. Apparently, the answer Rick gave _'my daughter found him being tortured by some kids,'_ didn't please him no matter how many times Rick said it.

Rick opened his mouth to give the same answer for the thirteenth time when the door to the interrogation room opened and two new men walked in. One was about six foot four inches, the other about five, ten. Neither looked pleased. Taking a chance on change with the new cops, Rick offered a smile. "Welcome to the party, gentlemen."

"Shut up!" the older officer demanded then turned to the two newcomers. "I got this, Detective. I'll . . ."

The taller detective interrupted the man, "I'm taking over." He said it with such authority that the older man merely nodded and walked out, leaving notebook and suspect behind.

Rick wondered just whom he was dealing with who wielded that kind of authority at such a seemingly young age. He didn't wonder long.

The tall man turned to Rick and frowned. "I'm Detective Don Flack. This is Detective Mac Taylor." Both men moved into the room, Detective Flack taking a seat while Detective Taylor paced slowly around the table and behind Rick. Don said "you were at a dog parlor with two little girls this afternoon?"

Keeping his smile, not bothering to turn and watch Detective Taylor, whom Rick thought might be playing '_bad cop_', Rick nodded. "My daughter, Alexis, and a girl we'd just met named Traci." He didn't wait for the questions he'd already heard a dozen times, merely springing into the events.

"My daughter said she found some kids torturing this dog so she brought it home. My mother was horrified at the idea of something so dirty in the house, so I told her I'd get it groomed. Alexis and I went out and a girl maybe thirteen years old ran over and claimed the dog was hers." Rick frowned at the memory of the disreputable state the girl had been in. "I thought she was a runaway." He turned blue eyes to meet Detective Flack's and was momentarily stunned by just how vivid a blue the officer's own eyes were, but he filed away the color for a future book character and continued. "I offered to take her and the dog to get it groomed. I thought I might be able to turn her over to child protection. She agreed to come and we went to the groomer. As soon as they heard the dog's name, they took us to the back room where they made us wait until the police showed up and took us all here to the twelfth precinct." Finally, Rick turned to look at Detective Taylor and was surprised by the neutral look in the man's blue eyes.

Detective Taylor placed a hand on the table near Rick but didn't crowd him. "How did you get an appointment with the groomer?"

Rick smiled widely and shrugged nonchalantly. "The name Richard Castle opens doors." He paused, but when neither man reacted, he added, "Richard Castle? I'm a novelist. You might have heard of the top selling '_Derrick Storm_' novels?"

"Ah," Detective Taylor acknowledged. With a nod he said "do you know who the girl is that claimed the dog?"

With a shake of his head, Rick answered "she said her name was Traci and the dog's name was Rex . . . Sir Reginald of Southland." Something clicked, and Rick asked "she's a rich kid, isn't she? With a papered dog . . .Traci's not a runaway . . ." his eyes opened wide and he turned back to Detective Flack, "was she kidnapped?"

"You tell me," Detective Flack returned, voice hostile.

_Ah, so _he's_ the bad cop._ Rick laid both hands fully visible on the table, a wise thing to do when playing poker with a nervous man. Being interrogated by an annoyed cop seemed to merit the same caution. "I would say she either ran away with a full sized dog to care for or she was kidnapped . . . and the dog." He frowned at the improbability of such a case. _Who wants to take a dog, too?_ "Have you asked her what happened?" Rick asked, feigning nonchalance.

Detective Taylor straightened and moved to a spot next to Detective Flack. "She says she escaped and saw you with her dog," he said.

Rick's mouth dropped. "Then why am I still here?" This was a situation he would have found only in a fifties detective novel. In the modern age who kept an innocent man after he'd been cleared?

"Who is Raphael Engel?" Detective Taylor asked.

"Raphael?" Rick's face registered complete surprise. "She said Raphael did this?" Stunned he looked from one man to the other, trying to read their faces.

Finally, he gave up and shook his head. These men would be a challenge at the weekly poker game. "Raphael Engel is a philanthropist from Boston, but I understand he has homes in several states, including one in Manhattan. He donates children's hospitals." Rick looked at them and clarified in a slow, clear manner, "not wings, entire hospitals. The family comes from a combination of old European aristocracy and new computer and real estate wealth. There're eight boys and two girls in the family and almost all of them do charitable works. There's one brother, Samael, who allegedly runs with the Hell's Angels. One of the sisters, Maria, is dying of a rare blood disorder so doesn't get out at all. Last I heard she's in a hospital."

None of the information he gave seemed to impress either detective, so Rick continued to fill them in. "Raphael Engel has sponsored several child welfare organizations including founding two missing children search groups. If you want to find a missing kid, call Raphael. He'll throw his money into your search and show up occasionally to check on it, too. Other than that, he's a pretty private person. Usually only comes out for his rescue efforts and hospital openings."

"And Sariel Engel?" Detective Taylor prompted.

"The youngest brother," Rick answered. "I don't know him at all. He's at university and hasn't done much in the philanthropy world."

Detective Taylor looked thoughtful, watching Rick steadily. Finally, he asked, "and where's the sister, Maria?"

With a shrug, Rick answered "last I heard she's in Manhattan in the hospital. The family's rumored to be waiting for her to stabilize so they can return her to Boston, but the press hasn't had anything new for at least two weeks." Then, before either man could think Rick was an avid gossip follower, he added "my mother follows any news of the Engels she can get. She was a friend of their mother's."

"Thank you, Mister Castle," Detective Taylor nodded, drawing a dark look from Detective Flack. "Stay in town. We'll be in touch."

Rick slowly rose to his feet. "So, I can go?"

"Yeah," Detective Flack glared at him.

"Okay, a couple questions," Rick smiled. "Is Traci going to be okay?"

Detective Taylor studied him a long moment before nodding. "Her parents are on their way. She'll be okay."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Rick said, "Good. And two, can I get a business card from each of you? I never know when I'll need you again."

"What?" Detective Flack was genuinely confused.

Rick smiled playfully. "Well, I've been here for the entire afternoon and in less than ten minutes you gentlemen listened to me. The other guy was trying to break me, which is a great technique but only works if the suspect has something to hide. The way I see it, if I ever _do_ need someone to interrogate me again, I'm going to ask for you guys."

A smile flitted over Detective Taylor's stern visage as he handed over a card while Detective Flack looked too stunned to respond.

xxx

Continued in Chapter Eight: Connecting the Pieces

7


End file.
